March 21, 2008 @ 10:43 am | Filed under: The Fit Life, The Solid Rock

“Sometimes when we read the words of those who have been more than conquerors, we feel almost despondent. I feel that I shall never be like that. But they won through step by step.  By little bits of wills.  Little denials of self.  Little inward victories. By faithfulness in very little things. They became what they are. No one sees these little hidden steps. They only see the accomplishments, but even so, those small steps were taken. There is no sudden triumph, no sudden spiritual maturity. That is the work of the moment.”

                              —from the journal of Amy Carmichael, as quoted in Holy Sweat: The Process of Peak Performance

“What is WRONG with me?” I limped into the house, scraped my running shoes off of my feet, and all but collapsed on the living room floor. “I don’t understand this.”

“Your knee again?” Mike had become quite adept in noticing when my right knee - the definite weakness in my body - was once again making its presence known.

“Not just my knee. It’s both legs.”

This was Saturday and, for the third day in a row, I’d suffered a horrible case of shin splints. I’d not felt this kind of discomfort (and, at times, downright pain) since last summer when I was in the beginning stages of training for the 5K.

“Last Saturday I ran 4 miles, without even thinking about it.” I was in full-on whine mode and - unfortunately for him - Mike was the only one within earshot. “Today I ran only two and the last half I was in HORRIBLE PAIN.“

Irritatingly unfazed by my drama, my sweet husband had the good sense to just humor me. Or so…I thought…

“Okay, let’s think about this. Have you done anything differently this week?”

“No.”

“Are your shoes still in good shape? Are you lacing them properly?”

“Yes. To both.”

“Still stretching first, aren’t you?”

“Of course.”

“Hm.” Mike continues to be maddeningly unfazed even as I continue to bemoan my sudden, unexpected fall from runner-girl-goes-far status.

“Let’s go over this again. Have you done anything differently?”

Uh-oh.

A little niggling of something remarkably akin to discomfort began to worm its way through me.

“Well, have you?”

“Not really.” I hedged as much as I dared to. “I mean, I increased my speed…some.” The truth was that for the past week I’d spent three days on the treadmill, rather than outdoors, working on taking my speed from 5.2 to 5.6.

“Uh-huh, that’s what I thought. What about stretching? Are you compensating for the extra stress by doing extra stretching?”

“Not really.” This time I didn’t even try to hedge. The picture was becoming crystal clear and it was letting me know that I’d made some simple, stupid mistakes.

Not only had I not done extra stretching but I had become so comfortable and complacent in my running routine that I’d all but told myself I didn’t really need the stretching anymore.

“I get it.” I held up a hand in protest when my kineseology major husband opened his mouth to say more. “Believe me, I get it.”

And I did get it.

Before I ran early this morning - I followed ALL that I knew to be right. I spent the needed time in stretching. As I worked the muscles still sore from days of neglect and (okay, let’s call it what it was - abuse) I was struck by the odd feeling the stretching gave me.

It hurt…so good.

There was soreness, definitely. Even a few twinges of pain. But the longer I stretched, the better I felt about what I was giving to my body. It hurt…so good.

God began to speak to me like He does during times like these, this time giving me an analogy that was very personal, very timely. Very real.

These past weeks have been such a growing time for me. Over and over, I have found myself being challenged in ways that are taking me to a new level. He’s calling me to new places, new levels of ‘fitness’, new dimensions of awareness, and new endeavors.

At times it is pure delight. Still - many other times, it’s quite painful.

He’s shaking up my complacency, calling me to spend extra time in ’stretching’ in order to be flexible enough, limber enough, strong enough - for the course He’s setting me upon. I can’t get away from the feeling that He has much He wants to say to me, but I have to get myself out of the way in order to hear it all. I have to let down the masks I wear, the disguises that I use to hide my imperfections, my weaknesses. He wants me, real and honest.

He knows those ‘weak’ spots too. Just like my right knee, He whispers words of both, caution and encouragement and I know I’d be wise to listen, to pay attention to the ways I can compensate for those weaknesses. My weak spots need not be a hindrance; they can just serve as a reminder that my only chance of true strength is when I place myself completely under His care.

He’s calling me to something ‘different.’ All my past training is just that - in the past. This is a new thing - a fresh thing - and requires a fresh vision, fresh faith, a fresh anointing.

These are those baby steps, revisited.

But I’m excited. I want to be ‘more than a conqueror.’

That can only happen in those little steps.

Those little bits of wills.

Little denials of self.

Little inward victories.

By faithfulness in very little things.

This new call to more is not always comfortable.

There is soreness, definitely. Even a few twinges of pain. But the longer I spend in these new things, the better I feel about what I am giving to my soul.

It hurts…so good.